We'll Be Fine
by PineConeofAwesome
Summary: He told her they would be fine, soon to be home in District Twelve, the witnesses to the end of the war. Turns out he was wrong. Prim's last moments with Rory. Prim x Rory.


The two of them stood waiting in the hovercraft. Waiting to heal, to mend, to protect the new Panem. It was coming to an end. The light at the end of the tunnel was in sight, nearly reachable. They would be the witnesses of a new nation.

Prim stood silently in her starched white medic uniform, hair carefully braided. Her medical kit was strapped around her waist, making her look immensely professional and beautiful in Rory's eyes. He stood at attention, ready to help guard the medics while they took care of the surviving bombed children. The Capitol children would be bombed any minute, innocent lives blown to smithereens so twenty-four children could survive the next year.

"Are you scared?" Prim asked quietly.

"You've asked that a million times," Rory said smiling.

Prim giggled a bit, but soon regained her serious countenance. "We could die, you know."

Rory frowned. "We'll be fine, Prim."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

A deafening explosion rattled underneath them, throwing the two back. Rory jumped up and helped Prim up. "They... it's..."

Scores of children were killed in an instant. Yes, they were Capitol children, but they did not do anything. President Snow was repulsive. Or perhaps the whole rebellion was repulsive for killing them. Either way, it had to be done.

"It's nearly over, Prim. Soon, we'll be back at home, no more Hunger Games, no more cruelty... we'll be safe."

Prim nodded. A robotic voice directed for the medics and soldiers to meet at the directed points. "See you later, Prim," Rory whispered. Prim looked at him warily, then stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Rory was stunned, in a good way. Perhaps he had been dreaming off this moment for quite awhile. Prim pulled back, face flushed. "I... I'm sorry," she apologized hesitantly.

"No... no need to be sorry, Prim..." Rory said shyly, before pecking her on the forehead sweetly. Red swept across Prim's face. "I've always wanted to do that," Rory said carefully. "Me too," Prim replied.

"We... need to go. See after, Rory?" Prim asked.

"See you after," he affirmed.

Prim caught his gray eyes in her stunningly crystal-clear blue eyes, then quickly turned and jogged toward the medics exit. Rory stood still, love for this blonde-haired angel filling his heart, until a rough hand jerked him back. "Come on, son. Duty calls," a rough man in a uniform beckoned to him. Rory turned his gaze back from Prim to his duties as a soldier. Though he wouldn't be fourteen for a month, he already knew plenty about weaponry and battle from Gale and was allowed to help in (hopefully) the last skirmish. He was quite proud of himself.

The hatches for the medics and the soldiers were let down as the hovercraft landed, and Rory rushed out with the rest of the quad, which was mostly made up of sixteen through twenty-year-olds, excluding himself. The cold air nipped at him where his uniform did not protect, and the reality of the battle hit him like a brick. The ground was stained crimson from the scattered bodies that lay on the snow-packed street, cries and moans occasionally filling the air. Most of the children were dead. Rory wanted to scream, cry, and throw up at the same time.

He skirted around the concrete slabs that marked where the children were and came to a stop about fifteen feet from it. Strategically placed between two other soldiers, he pulled his gun from his belt and stood at attention. He swiveled his head around, sure that no one would try to attack him, and searched for Prim amid the swarm of medics. She was rushing toward a small girl screaming from underneath a still boy, bloodied and bruised. As Prim reached the girl, silver parachutes began to waft from the hovercraft down to the medics. Rory knew in an instant what they were. Bombs. They had used the very same ones to kill the children. Prim's eyes widened when she saw them, and looked through the crowd. She was looking at someone, saying something, when the first parachute exploded.

The rest followed the suit. Rory was thrown backwards by the force, but his helmet protected him from any damage. He scrambled up from the sidewalk and saw the smoking square where the bombs were dropped. "Prim!" he screamed. "Prim!"

Rory dashed to the concrete barriers and leaped over one. He ran towards the place were Prim had been when he last saw her, dodging flames and coughing violently from the smoke. "Prim!"

She was lying one the ground, near the little girl. Her perfect blonde locks were singed off, her small frame a bruised and bloody mess. She was lying perfectly still. "Prim!" Rory screamed, "wake up! Please, Prim! Please!" He shook her, desperately hoping somehow she would magically come back. "No! Prim, please! No..." he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper. Another rough hand jerked him back, but the voice that accompanied it was yelling.

"Are you crazy, boy? You could get killed! Come on!" He dragged Rory up and towed him along behind him "Let me go!" Rory screamed. "I have to... have to see her! Once more!"

The man looked at Rory. "Who?" he asked. "Pr-Prim..." he whispered. The man nodded stiffly. Rory dashed back to Prim's side. He stroked what remained of her blackened hair and whispered in her unhearing ear.

"I love you, Prim. I always have. And I always will. You did good, Prim. Good work." He stiffly bent down, kissed her ear, and slowly walked away.

Rory never forgot her. He had a hard time forgiving Gale for designing the bombs that killed his beloved Prim, but eventually her forgave him. He moved back to Distric Twelve when he was eighteen with the rest of his family excluding Gale. He took care of the Mellark's garden and every year under his care the evening primroses bloomed the best


End file.
